


Cast thy nighted colour off

by floatingaway4



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Henry is still a gay English major, M/M, but it's okay just read the first chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4/pseuds/floatingaway4
Summary: This story is completely written and will be posted every three-ish days.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 178
Kudos: 151





	1. The call

**Author's Note:**

> This story is completely written and will be posted every three-ish days.

“ _Alex_.” 

Henry’s voice is broken, wet, and Alex’s mind races for something to say. He hears Henry try to swallow a sob. Alex bites his lip, fighting his natural urge to ramble, feeling like he should say something but having no idea what that is. 

“What is it, baby?” Alex is afraid to guess. It could just be Henry having one of his bad days, or it could be...no, he won’t guess about that. His brain is too muddled, too panicked, to do the time zone math, but he thinks it’s the middle of the night in England. 

Henry gasps for air, high-pitched and strained, and at least Alex knows what he has to do first. “Sit down," he orders. "Are you sitting down?”

“Yeah,” Henry manages.

“Head between your legs. Don’t pass out on me.” He assumes Henry did what he asked, because, well... because they listen to each other. 

“Okay, I’m gonna count, and you’re gonna close your eyes and pretend I’m holding you. You know how we do this, my arms are wrapped around your shoulders. You ready?” 

Henry doesn’t say anything, but Alex can hear his rapid, shallow breathing. 

“Exhale,” Alex orders, and starts counting slowly. He feels relief slam through him when he hears Henry doing it. Once he gets to 5, he says, “inhale,” and starts counting again. They go through a few cycles of this until Alex likes what he’s hearing a little more. “You feel my arms around you?” he asks softly. 

Henry just huffs out a shaky sigh, and Alex decides that’s a good sign, that he has enough air to sigh. Alex starts spewing out endearments, trying desperately to comfort his boyfriend from thousands of miles away. He doesn’t even really know what he’s saying, and he’s not sure it matters. 

“Alex,” Henry tries again. His voice is still thick and drenched in emotion, but at least he can get words out. Alex doesn’t bother replying, just gives Henry time. 

“Dad died.” 


	2. Don't be a dumbass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for talk about cancer

“He just... _went_ , Alex. He was so pale, his skin was gray, and they came in and..." He gasps. "It was like he went to sleep, but…” 

Alex just lets the quiet stretch out between them. 

“You want me to come?” he asks, finally. 

“I...I do, but…” Henry sobs again and Alex wishes he hadn’t asked. 

“No, it’s okay, I don’t have to--”

“No, Alex, it’s not...I want you to come, it’s just that...there’s going to be a funeral.” 

Shit. For all Alex _knows_ he’s dating a fucking royal, he forgets sometimes, forgets about the trappings and the ceremony that go with that. Of course, Henry’s dad won’t just be buried, there will be a televised funeral. 

“Oh, baby,” Alex breathes out. Henry is going to have to grieve in an internationally broadcast event, complete with reporters and royal watchers judging every step, every tear, every inch of what the Royal Family wears and does and says. And the crowds…. _Jesus_. 

“I can come, at least, we’ll just say I’m attending as a representative of the US government or whatever.” 

“I…” Henry starts crying again, and Alex so desperately wants to be there. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to talk, I’ll stay on here with you, you know.” 

And he does. For over an hour, until they both fall asleep. 

By the time Alex wakes up, the palace has put out a press release and the news is everywhere. That’s good in a way, because Alex doesn’t think he could’ve walked around all day, pretending nothing was wrong. 

***********************************

“I’m going. You can argue with me ‘til the cows come home, but I’m going.” 

Zahra stares at him, and for once doesn’t even try to argue. She just nods and walks off, already tapping something into her phone. 

Alex gets a detailed schedule in his email about an hour later. It has him flying over with the Veep and Nora. 

_I’m going over the night before,_ he replies. _I’ll pay for myself if I have to_. 

The revised itinerary lands in his inbox fifteen minutes later, with no comment. 

********************

Alex remembers seeing Henry’s dad at Philip’s wedding, and wondering if he was recovering from the flu or something. He honestly didn't think about it too much, he was busy getting drunk and hating Henry. He didn’t find out about the cancer diagnosis until after he and Henry knocked a stupidly expensive cake to the ground. Forced to pretend to be the asshole’s friend, Alex soon found himself locked in a hospital supply closet with Prince Dickhead. For whatever reason, something about their predicament made them actually start talking to each other.

That's when Alex learned about the cancer scare Henry’s dad had a couple years earlier, right when they’d met at the Olympics. It was the reason Henry had been such a prick then, he’d been anxious and upset about being sent away to something that felt so frivolous, while his father was going through chemo. 

It was also the reason Henry chose a cancer ward for them to visit. 

To avoid the publicity of hospital visits, a room in the palace had been set up for medical care, so they’d miraculously been able to keep things under wraps. Arthur had gone through chemo and radiation and it had seemed like he was in the clear, until a few months ago, when they'd learned the cancer was back. 

It had been a shadow over everything Henry and Alex had done since then. Every fancy hotel room, every international event, Alex could see the sadness in Henry’s eyes. But he was expected to carry on, stiff upper lip and all that British bullshit his grandmother insisted on. Alex did what he could. Sometimes Henry just wanted to be fucked, sometimes he wanted to talk and be held, most of the time he wanted both. In public, Alex saw Henry try to cover up his grief with a bland look of disinterest, a look that fooled everyone but Alex. 

At a trade conference, Alex almost hit a Mexican diplomat who he overheard calling Henry an asshole. But Alex had remembered who he was, and where he was, and who his boyfriend was, and had refrained from punching the prick. He’d just turned to him and said, in Spanish, “Maybe he’s just having a bad day. Maybe _you’re_ the asshole.” He’d clenched his fists at his side and walked away, never told Henry. He’d had enough to deal with, without worrying that other people were judging him. 

They’d gotten into a huge fight about a month ago, after Henry ran the fuck away from the lake house in the middle of the night, with no explanation. Alex had been hurt and cried his way through the next week, barely functioning personally or professionally. He’d finally decided Henry was worth fighting for, and if Henry was going to dump him Alex was going to make him do it in person. So he’d flown to London and screamed at Henry outside the palace until Henry let him in. They’d had their biggest fight ever, Henry just talking about birthrights and bloodlines and trying to insist that Alex leave. Alex was so furious and ready to just storm out, when Henry sat down hard on the end of his bed and started to cry. 

_“Philip called, while we were in Texas. Dad...the cancer spread, Alex. He’s...he’s stopping chemo. The doctors said pain management is…”_

_“Jesus fuck, baby, why didn’t you tell me?”_

_"Because I didn't...I didn't want to make you, to put you through this, Alex. It's too much to ask." Alex was mad at himself for not seeing the shadows in Henry's eyes. "You're not obligated...please, just go."_

_Alex had wrapped himself around Henry, stroked his hair. "Don't be a dumbass," he whispered through tears. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere."_

_He’d held Henry for hours, waiting alone in Henry’s bedroom each time he went to check on his dad._

_“I told him...about you. I don’t know if he... if he could still hear me, but I did. I should’ve done it before.” Alex shook his head, cried with Henry. “I wish you could meet him,” Henry said, when he came back after one of his visits. “I mean, I know you met him as the President’s son, but I wish he had time to know you. To know who you are to me.”_

_Alex ran one finger down Henry’s wet cheek. “Up to you, sweetheart.”_

_“I...he’s not, I just don’t think this is...he doesn’t have the energy, I don’t think...”_

_“It’s okay, baby,” he’d said, and wrapped Henry tightly in his arms again._


	3. Anything you need

Alex flies into Heathrow alone and Henry sends a car for him. This time, he’s expected by the Palace, so he doesn’t need to scream at Henry from just inside the gates. Alex barely sees London pass by outside his tinted window. His brain is busy trying to figure out how he can support Henry, how he can absorb all that pain and hurt without breaking himself. 

He’s driven to a weird back entrance he’s never seen, and Shaan meets him at the car. He escorts Alex through the huge kitchens and up into the palace, leaving him, wordlessly, at Henry’s door. Alex can see that Shaan’s eyes are red-rimmed and reaches out to touch his shoulder before he walks away. “I know this is hard for all of you,” Alex tells him. “Thanks for taking care of Henry, though.” 

Shaan smiles at him. “It’s my pleasure, Mr. Claremont-Diaz.” He nods toward the door. “I’m going to leave that to you, now.” He opens his mouth, and after hesitating says, “He hasn’t really slept.” 

Alex nods, and knocks softly. When he doesn’t hear anything, he twists the ornate, thousand year old doorknob. He finds Henry passed out sideways across the bed. There’s a bottle of expensive brandy on the nightstand, almost empty. Alex kicks off his shoes and sits down gently on the edge of the bed. His hand moves of its own volition and starts petting Henry’s hair. 

Henry jerks, gasps for air, and sits up and looks at Alex, who immediately wishes Henry had stayed asleep. He looks horrible, pale skin and red eyes and the worst kind of hopelessness on his face. Alex takes Henry’s face in his hands, running his thumbs over the dark circles under his eyes. Henry’s breathing slows almost immediately. There’s a fuzziness in his expression that makes Alex think he took a sleeping pill or something. 

Alex strips down to his underwear, reaches behind him to stack up some pillows, then leans back against them. He tugs at Henry until his head is resting on Alex’s chest and starts stroking Henry’s hair again, feels his breathing even out. He flips the comforter over the two of them and closes his eyes. 

Alex wakes up when he feels Henry’s hands on his shoulders and Henry’s lips on his neck. The room feels dark and quiet. His jet-lagged brain isn’t sure if it’s night or day and he really doesn’t care. His body is already responding to being underneath Henry, being licked and stroked and held down. He tugs on Henry’s hair to pull his head up, stretching up for a long, sloppy kiss that tastes like expensive booze. He lets Henry take the lead for a minute, before realizing Henry is all over the place, distracted and almost frenzied. Alex decides to try and take charge, knowing Henry will push back if he’s doing the wrong thing. 

He’s not. 

Alex flips them over and holds Henry down, perching on top of him, stroking his hands up and down his chest. He pulls Henry’s shirt off, then licks and kisses his skin until he makes it to Henry’s waist. He shoves off the pajama pants that are in his way, and his mouth continues to travel down Henry’s body. He teases at Henry’s cock with his fingers and his tongue, then continues down to lick and nip at Henry’s thighs. He feels Henry sit up, trying to pull Alex’s mouth back to his dick, and Alex lets him. He finds Henry’s eyes in the dark, as he swallows him down, and tries to telegraph his thoughts. _Anything you need, baby_.

After Henry comes, Alex scoots back to the pillow next to him and catches his breath. Henry reaches a hand toward Alex’s cock, but Alex brushes it away. He presses a long kiss to Henry’s forehead and pulls the duvet over them again. Henry tucks his face into Alex’s neck. He doesn’t shake or make any noise, the dampness on Alex’s neck the only sign that Henry is crying. Alex scrubs a hand almost roughly through Henry’s hair, and feels Henry’s body sag into sleep again. 

The next time Alex wakes up, sunlight is streaming through the gauzy white curtains and Henry is sitting up, smiling down at him. Alex knows which sight makes him feel warmer, which sight causes something to burn and bloom in his chest. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hello,” Henry replies. He hands Alex a mug of coffee, which makes Alex sit up a little straighter. Henry reaches around for his own mug, and Alex can smell the Earl Grey. 

“Thanks, babe.” He leans in for a quick kiss, then reaches out and strokes Henry’s hair again. “How’re you doing?” 

Henry shrugs. “The sleep helped. Thank you.” 

Alex leans against Henry’s shoulder. “Help me out, I have no idea what time or day it is.” 

He feels Henry chuckle a little. “It’s Friday morning, almost 7. Today is the last day of lying in state. The funeral is tomorrow. The whole thing starts at 10, but the graveside,” his voice catches, “graveside service...isn’t until 1.” 

Alex nods against him, sucking down more of his coffee. He takes Henry’s empty hand in his. They sit in silence for a bit until Alex puts his drink down so he can pull his phone off the charger on the nightstand. 

“I’m supposed to go with Nora and her grandfather to pay respects today at, um...” he scrolls down through his itinerary. “Noon.” Henry nods. “I can come right back after that, though.” 

Henry doesn’t answer, just runs his fingers through Alex’s hair. 

“I can’t be with you, during the funeral, right?” Alex asks. 

Henry shakes his head. “There will be a processional during the last stretch into the grounds at Windsor.” Henry’s voice sounds like it was run over by a car and then scraped off the road. “Traditionally, the immediate family walks behind the casket for the last part of the trip.” 

“Jesus, babe.” Alex wraps himself tightly around Henry. He turns his head enough to look Henry straight in the eye. “You’ll be okay, though. We’ll manage.” He drains his coffee mug. “How’s Bea?” 

“Shattered,” Henry tells him. “She’s taking it really hard. She’s been going to meetings every day. There’s always a risk of using when an addict is under stress but she’s doing everything she can.” 

Alex looks up at him again. “Is there anything I can do to help her?” 

Henry smiles down at him and kisses him gently. “She’s coming by to see you later, I think. Just you being here is helping, love.” He picks up his phone and manages to text something with one hand. “Are you hungry?” 

Alex starts to shake his head but his stomach growls. “Apparently,” he laughs. 

“I’ll see if Bea can meet us for breakfast. I think she stayed with a friend last night.” 

About an hour later, the three of them are in the little kitchen area in Henry and Bea’s apartment. Henry and Bea are holding hands on the table and sharing happy memories about their dad. Alex occasionally reaches over to rub his hand up and down Henry’s leg. One of the staff comes in to ask Bea something about her funeral outfit, and she answers through tears. 

After they eat, they retreat to the music room where they just sit, Henry plunking keys on the piano and Bea strumming a guitar. Alex lays on the settee for a while then moves to the pillows on the floor. Once in a while he gets up to drop a kiss on Henry's head. When Henry gets up to use the bathroom, Bea smiles over at Alex. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Alex. I don’t know how he’d get through this without you.” 

“Really?” Alex laughs, “because I don’t feel like I’m doing anything, or doing him any good.” 

“Trust me, Alex darling, you are.” 

Later, after Alex does his official duties, he and Henry move to the library to curl into each other on a worn, leather sofa that Alex has always loved. Henry sits slumped between Alex’s legs, leaning back against his chest and playing with Alex’s hands. They just sit quietly for a while, when Henry suddenly speaks, his voice rough and creaky.

“His hands were so...and his face...he ...I could tell, Alex. I could tell he was... already gone.” 

Alex tightens his arms around Henry, weaves their fingers together. “Did he say anything?” Alex whispers, almost afraid to talk.

Henry shakes his head. “He just didn’t have any energy, any...life left in him. The last time he talked was a couple of days before he died. He said he loved us.” Alex buries his face in Henry's hair. “We were all there, me and mum, and Philip and Martha and Bea. ” 

And it feels...heavy, suddenly, the weight of carrying Henry through something like this. But Alex realizes it’s nothing he can’t handle. Nothing he isn’t _willing_ to handle. He's so ready to be a bigger part of Henry’s life, even though he isn’t sure if anyone will ever officially allow that. He meant it when he told Henry he was committed to this. One of these days it’s going to be “for better or for worse.” Might as well start now. 


	4. That's your side now

Through the whole church service, Alex sits, helpless, the stupid pew hard and uncomfortable, like it wasn’t even meant for humans to sit on. Nora and Pez are there with him but Alex barely notices. He doesn't take his eyes off Henry, watches him sag and then pull himself back together, and Alex can’t even imagine how much this is taking out of his boyfriend. Unable to touch him or even sit near him, he tries to will his strength to Henry across the huge cathedral. 

When they all start to file out, Bea wraps herself around Henry, and whispers something in his ear when she finds Alex in the crowd of mourners. Henry nods and squeezes her back, a small smile on his face. Alex recognizes that smile. He knows it’s for him. 

Outside, in the harsh, bright sunlight, British reporters are everywhere, held back by ropes and stern looking security people. Alex recognizes American and international network logos too, remembers Arthur was famous in his own right before he became a royal. 

The graveside service is private, at least, and Alex is thankful for whatever strings Zahra or Shaan had to pull to get him here. He finds Pez and stands near him as Henry’s dad is lowered into the ground, in the shadow of Queen Victoria’s mausoleum, because of course she has to loom over everyone there. 

Alex isn’t sure if it’s even a good idea to get too close to Henry. He’s not sure he can keep from touching him. But when he sees Henry’s face, that beautiful face, looking so hopeless and exhausted and desperately trying not to cry, Alex can’t help it. Once the service ends, he walks across the manicured grass and stands in front of Henry, but leaves his hands in his pockets. 

“It’s almost over,” he whispers in a low voice. 

Henry nods, and Alex gives in a little. He reaches out and claps Henry on the shoulder, then lets his hand run slowly down Henry’s arm. When he reaches Henry’s hand, he holds it for a second before letting go. 

“We’ll go back to your place after this,” Alex reminds him. 

“I have to...there’s some sort of reception…” 

“Do I look like I give a flying fuck?” Alex asks. 

Henry manages a rueful smile. “Even if I could get out of it, I can’t leave Bea on her own.” 

Alex nods thoughtfully. “Can you get me in?” 

Henry blinks. “Probably. Mum won’t notice, so...maybe.” Alex has a moment to think that for all the power people assume the royals have, Henry is remarkably powerless over his own day to day life. 

Bea comes up to them, and Alex hugs her hard, then plants a kiss on her cheek. “Give him that for me, would you?” he says, winking at Henry. 

Bea smiles, even as tears run down her face, and turns to hug Henry just as hard as Alex hugged her. She kisses his cheek, too, rubs her lipstick off with two fingers. A young man, who looks a couple years older than Bea, comes up and takes her hand. Alex can’t help but look at them with jealousy. He sees the same envy reflected back at him on Henry’s face. He seriously thinks about just kissing Henry and _fuck_ everyone else, but he reminds himself of where they are and he just can’t bring the world down on top of them--on top of Henry-- right now. 

He watches Pez hug Henry, a bro hug, just for comfort. And he decides that --fuck it, he can at least hug Henry without it becoming an international incident. Reporters weren’t even allowed past the gates. 

He wraps himself around Henry’s waist, and Henry falls into him, his chin resting on Alex’s head. He runs his hands firmly up and down Henry’s back before he pulls away. They keep their hands on each other’s hips for a few more moments. Henry smiles down at him, blinking away fresh tears. 

“I’m glad you’re here, love.” 

Alex suffers through a stuffy reception where minor royals keep giving him the side-eye, probably wondering what the fuck he’s doing here. One woman asks him for a drink, and he grits his teeth and politely tells her he’s not a waiter. He puts up with it, though, so he can be in the same room as Henry, keeping an eye on him from a safe distance. 

A couple hours later, they’re finally set free and allowed to go home. Alex has food sent to Henry’s room, tries to make him eat something. He moves the liquor bottle out of Henry’s reach until he chokes down a sandwich. Henry flips on the television just for noise but turns it off again when he lands on a Bond marathon, in honor of his dad. 

They eventually just crawl into bed, because Henry’s too wrung out to do anything but sleep. Alex scoops him into his arms and holds him tight. Just before he falls asleep, Henry turns onto his side, like he always does. Alex starts to press against Henry’s back and spoon him, then has a thought. 

“Hey,” he pokes Henry, right between his shoulderblades. 

“Yes?” Henry asks, looking back over his shoulder, confusion obvious in his voice. 

“You always turn that way first when you sleep, right?” 

Henry rolls onto his back so he can look at Alex. “I think so, I mean, I move around in my sleep, which you know already.” He yawns and blinks slowly. “Why?” 

“Just…” Alex tilts his head, then rolls out of bed and walks around to Henry’s side. “Scoot,” he orders, pointing at Henry. 

“Okay,” Henry answers, obviously confused. He rolls to the other side of the bed, then swaps the pillows. 

Alex lays down in the spot Henry just vacated and turns to look at him. “That’s your side now.” 

Henry smiles a wobbly smile and shakes his head, smushing his face into the pillow when he does. “Okay. Might I ask why?”

Alex crooks one finger, gesturing for Henry to come closer. Henry rolls onto his side, his face now inches from Alex’s. “Because if you’re going to sleep on your side, I want to hold you where I can see you. So,” he says decisively, pulling Henry into his arms again, “ _that_ is going to have to be your side of the bed.” 

Henry looks at Alex, love and gratitude and the promise of forever softening his features. Tears spill over his bottom lashes. “All right, then.” 

Alex leans in and presses soft, salty kisses to Henry’s closed eyelids. “I got you,” he whispers. 

Lying in Henry’s bed, awake at 3am, Alex has the startling realization that this is now his life. That this is part of what he’s committed to, in loving Henry. That he may one day have to go through all this as the grieving spouse, unless they’re never officially allowed to come out...or unless Alex dies first...and this whole train of thought is officially too morbid to dwell on tonight. 

But he does turn over and hold onto Henry a little more tightly. Inhales his scent, feels the breath making his chest rise and fall, presses his forehead against the strong muscles in Henry’s back. 

As if he can hear Alex’s thoughts, Henry turns over and pulls Alex into his arms. 

And Alex lets him. 


	5. Whispering sweet nothings

Shaan knocks on Henry’s door, letting him know Alex’s car is here. Henry doesn’t move, keeping his arms wrapped around Alex, pressing kisses into his forehead. 

Alex groans. “I have to go.” He tilts his face upward and Henry catches his lips in a long kiss. 

“I know,” he murmurs against Alex's lips. 

“I love you,” Alex assures him, holding tight around Henry’s waist one more time. 

“I love you too,” Henry says, burying his nose in Alex’s hair. “I wish you could stay.” 

“One of these days,” Alex promises confidently. “Are you gonna be okay?” 

Henry pulls back and nods. “I scheduled a therapy appointment tomorrow. Tonight I’m just going to sit with Mum and be there for her.” He tears up a little, but doesn’t look as shaky as he did when Alex first arrived. “You make me feel stronger, you know.” He smiles, but it’s still a little sad around the edges. “Like I might have some strength to give to someone else.” 

Alex smiles, kissing Henry again. 

“I told her about you.” 

“Your mom?” Alex asks, surprised. 

Henry blushes a little. “No, my therapist.” 

Alex starts to ask what she said, but decides it’s none of his business.

"I'm, erm, I'm going to tell mum, as soon as I get the chance." 

Alex nods. “Whenever you're ready. I’m glad you have people here to lean on.” 

Henry leans his forehead against Alex’s. “It helps.” He kisses Alex as Shaan knocks again, more urgently this time. “You help.” 

Alex smiles. “I gotta go.” 

“You said that already,” Henry reminds him, and Alex grins and leans up again. “I’ll call you,” he promises. One more long kiss is all they have time for, and Alex is out the door. 

******************************

Alex has been home for about a month when the story hits. 

**_“Princess Henry?”_ **

**_“GAY SCANDAL AT PALACE! QUEEN FURIOUS!”_ ** ****

  
  


A picture of them huddled together at Wimbledon, and one at the funeral. Alex could’ve sworn they didn’t do anything that could be interpreted as more than friendship, but someone snapped a bad cell phone shot of Alex squeezing Henry’s hand. Based on where the picture was taken, it must’ve been right before he hugged Henry at the graveside. They’ve zoomed in on their joined hands, even circled them for good measure. Alex reads the stories and realizes that’s all they have. Which, really, is _nothing_. Nothing close to what they could’ve had, if they’d done a little more poking around. 

_Fuck_. He hopes whoever decided to take pictures at a motherfucking funeral really needed the money they got from the Daily Mail. His fist curls, and he really wants to punch someone, something. 

The thing is, this picture is crap. It looks exactly like the tabloid sleaze that it is. No one will buy for a second that they’re together, based on this as evidence. This isn’t even at the level of Bigfoot and Loch Ness monster sightings. 

Alex and Henry barely talk about it, saying they’ll just ignore it like they do claims that Alex isn’t a citizen and Henry is secretly a Nazi. Alex focuses on listening to Henry talk about missing his dad, his therapy sessions, and how the rest of his family is managing. 

But their PR teams still decide they need to do _something_ , put something else out there to distract from any possibility that two of the world’s most eligible bachelors are fucking each other. Because apparently that’s more important than grieving. 

“Why is he the one who’s being punished?” Alex rants, pacing the room. “How about we shame the fucker who took cell phone pictures at a funeral? How about that? Instead of shaming the person who just lost his...his father?” Alex’s voice catches on a sob, and he storms off to his room. He’s trying to look furious, because he is, but really he’s just...sad. 

Ellen comes in to talk to Alex, and he’s half-afraid he’s going to get another Powerpoint about safe sex, like he did when he first told his mom about their relationship. But she just hugs him and tells him she’ll support him and Henry if they decide to go public. Alex thinks about the grey, sad look in Henry’s eyes recently when they video chat, how he can barely make a choice about food or clothes without someone telling him what to do. He heaves a sigh and tells her that even if he’s ready, Henry can’t, shouldn’t make big decisions like that right now. 

“Thanks, mom, but he just doesn’t have the emotional bandwidth for something like that right now. And he really doesn’t have the energy to deal with the fallout.” He kisses his mom’s cheek. “But I appreciate it.” 

A while later, Zahra floats the idea of them both going on dates with women. Alex completely loses his shit at the idea, stalking around the room and waving his hands. 

“He’s fucking grieving his father. He wouldn’t go on a date with _me_ right now, and I wouldn’t make him. There’s no fucking way he’d go out with a girl even if he was straight. Or bi. Or whatever.” There are frustrated tears in Alex’s eyes, and Zahra gives in. A little. 

“Okay, fine. So _you_ go on a date. Problem solved.” 

“Jesus,” Alex huffs, rubbing his eyes roughly. “With who? Nora?” 

“Actually…” Zahra starts, and points to one of the tabloid photos of the crowd at the funeral. At the edge of the photo, Alex is visible, hugging Bea. “Why don’t we put you two out there as a couple? That’ll buy us some time until everyone loses interest.” 

“She’s in the same situation! And she’s dating someone, I think, and …” But Zahra’s looking at him, and he realizes the truth doesn't matter here. It’s all about appearances and deception. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect Henry, to get the press off his back. Alex has never hated his position in the world as much as he does right this second. He stalks out of the room, saying he has to talk to Henry first. He waits to get to his room before he hits the call button. 

“Hello, love.” Henry’s face immediately calms the angry storm in Alex’s brain. 

“Hey, baby.” He exhales, feeling the tension seep out of his muscles. “How are you feeling today?” 

  
Alex listens to Henry talk about his mom’s crying jags and the queen being her usual bitchy self. When there’s finally a lull in the conversation, Alex decides to get it over with. 

“Babe, I have to talk to you about something, but if you say no, it’s not happening, okay?” Alex looks down to realize he’s twisted the comforter in his hand. “I mean, Bea will have to okay it too, but I wanted to talk to you first.” 

Alex explains the plan, just a couple stories, a few pictures. “Just enough to cause a distraction. We already have a photo from the funeral, so we can use that. And I’ll come over to go on a date with Bea, which means I get to see you, so….” Alex trails off. 

“That’s the only part of this I like,” Henry tells him, in a flat voice that Alex hates. 

“Like I said, if you don’t want me to do this, I won’t. And if Bea’s not up to it, I won’t.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t have come to the funeral.” 

“No,” Henry blurts out. “Please don’t say that. I couldn’t have made it through that without you.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sorry for any of it.” 

Alex manages a little smile. “Okay.” 

Henry is quiet for a bit, and Alex doesn’t push. “I’ll talk to Bea and we’ll call you later. If...if we do this, when would you come?” 

“I don’t know yet, soon I’d imagine.” He sees the relief on Henry’s face, wishes he could reach out and touch him. 

“Okay, I’ll talk to her.” Henry looks straight into his phone. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, sweetheart.” 

Alex is flown over to London, not allowed to stay at the palace because if he’s supposed to be in a relationship with Bea, the Crown wants to preserve the appearance of propriety. He’s photographed going in and out of a swanky hotel, by paparazzi who were basically spoon-fed his location. 

“What, like I’m supposed to be a fucking virgin?” Bea asks Alex, while they’re on their fake date. 

It makes him laugh a little, something he hasn’t done much of lately. 

“Bea, I’m so sorry about this.” He covers one of her hands with his own. “This is the worst timing. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. But I’m going to an NA meeting right after this.” She removes her hand, gently, and gestures between the two of them. “Because this is fucked up.” 

Alex sighs, and Bea shakes her head. “It’s not your fault, and it’s okay. Honestly, it’s nice to get out for a bit. Besides, Henry needs you. I’m glad you’re here.” She leans across the table, because they both know cameras are clicking away through the plate glass windows. He smiles his fake, on-camera smile at her, can see the gossip rag headlines now. 

**_“Royal romance blossoms!”_ **

**_“Whispering sweet nothings?”_ **

If they only knew what she was actually saying. 

“And if this is what I have to do for him, then so be it. He’s always been there for me when I needed him.” She sips her Perrier. “Did he ever tell you about the night I went to rehab?” 

Alex nods, a little hesitantly. 

“I’m glad he did, Alex.” She reaches for his hands, selling their fake relationship without a second thought. “He was the only person I even thought of calling, the only one I knew would come find me in the middle of the night in some godforsaken parking lot, and save me from myself.” She gives him a coy smile, and he’s momentarily thrown by how their conversation doesn’t match their body language. They’re both shockingly good actors. “He’s the most selfless, loving person you could ever hope to meet.” 

He squeezes her hands, nods, reaches over to push a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I know.” 

She looks him straight in the eye. The look on her face is soft but her hands suddenly tighten on his like a vice grip. “And if you ever hurt my baby brother, I will end you.” 

Alex doesn’t want to laugh, but he finally loses the battle. “What is it with your family and threatening to kill me?” 

She laughs too, lets go of his hands and sits back. “Inherited trait, maybe.” She reaches for her coat, hanging on the back of her chair. He immediately jumps up and helps her put it on. “You’re coming over?” she asks in a low voice. 

Alex is driven in circles for an infuriating half an hour before he’s finally at the palace’s back gates. Shaan meets him again and takes him through the now familiar back entrance. When he gets to Henry’s room, he’s barely done knocking when the door flies open and he’s in Henry’s arms, kissed until he can’t breathe. 

“What--um, hi?” he squeaks out when Henry releases him.

“I was watching your date, someone was live streaming.” He rests his forehead against Alex’s. “I never thought I’d be jealous of Bea, but here we are.” 

Alex lets his body lean back against Henry’s strong forearms, runs his hands through Henry’s hair, presses soft, light kisses to his lips. “You don’t have to be jealous, you royal dumbass.” He pulls back a little, hands still stroking through his hair. “You okay?” 

Henry’s face is dark and his eyes are so, so sad. But he buries his face in the crook of Alex’s neck and whispers, “I am now.” 


	6. Appropriate channels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is both the low point and the turning point...
> 
> Also, chapter 10 is an epilogue, so Chapter 9 is really the end of the story. Thanks to everyone who's stuck it out this far! I love your comments and kudos!!!

Right after his mother gets reelected in a landslide, Alex gets busy working on policies and can’t get to England as often. Plus, with Arthur’s death, the Royal Family is actually granted a break from most non-essential diplomatic events, so Henry can’t find enough excuses to travel. Not seeing each other is stressing them both out. 

Alex gets angry and agitated. 

Henry gets quiet. 

When he doesn’t answer the phone for 24 hours, Alex considers calling Bea. He decides not to bother her, yet, and sends one more text. 

**_Baby, you okay?_ **

**_Look, I just need to know you’re okay_ **

**_We don’t need to talk. I’m just worried about you_ **

**_And I can’t afford another transatlantic flight right now_**

**_please just answer me_ **

When there’s no answer, Alex throws his phone. It bounces on the ugly rug and lays there, defiantly not telling him anything he needs to know. 

Finally, an hour later, he gets a response. 

**_I’m fine_ **

**_I just don’t feel like talking_ **

**_Sorry_ **

Alex wants to call, feels like he should. His finger hovers over the call button, but he finally decides, for once in his life, to control an impulse. 

He breathes out heavily a few times before he responds. 

**_Don’t be sorry_ **

**_I just_ **

**_It’s okay_ **

**_I love you_ **

**_Call if you need me_ **

He’s not surprised when he doesn’t get an answer right away.

He _is_ surprised when he doesn’t get an answer for over a week. 

****************

Henry shoves his door open and drops David’s leash. Before he can reach down to unhook it from his collar, David runs off. 

“Come back here, you silly goose,” he calls, following the jingling and dragging noise to his bedroom. 

“David--” 

Henry stops in his tracks when he sees Alex sprawled across one of the wingchairs in front of the fireplace. David is in his lap, wagging his tail and licking Alex, as though Alex smells like steak. 

Which is ridiculous, Henry thinks. Alex smells like cinnamon and heat and something earthy Henry has never been able to name. 

“What are you--how did you--”

“Bea got me in.” He scratches David behind the ears and the traitor closes his eyes in rapture. “And you owe me eleven hundred bucks.” 

“Alex, I--”

“Baby, please don’t.” Alex gently nudges David to the floor and walks across the room. “I don't want anything from you. I just needed to know if you were okay.” He reaches out to graze his fingers over the shadows under Henry’s eyes. “And you’re obviously not.” Alex sighs. “But if you tell me to go, I’ll go. If you’re done with me, I wish you’d just say so. It’d save me the jet lag.”

Alex watches Henry’s face, sees the conflict there, wonders if he’s about to get dumped on his ass.

“Alex, please, I…”

After what feels like forever, Alex starts to turn away. He doesn't want Henry to see him cry right now. 

He’s suddenly crushed in a hug. 

Alex almost fights it, just out of sheer surprise, but then he feels Henry’s body shake, hears the gasp, the sharp catch of his breath. “I’m sorry, I’m just ….” Henry rests his cheek on top of Alex’s head. “I’m so _tired_.” Alex can hear it in his voice, knows without asking that Henry means physically and mentally and emotionally. And he’s not _tired_ , he’s...depleted. Exhausted. 

Alex relaxes his own body, wraps his arms around Henry’s waist. He starts to say it’s okay, but it’s not. None of this is okay. So he doesn’t say anything. 

Alex makes Henry eat and shower, correctly guessing he hasn’t done much of either in a few days. He holds Henry's hand while he calls to reschedule the therapy appointment he missed. That night, he fucks Henry twice, both of them needing to feel connected in as many ways as possible. Afterward, they both doze off for a while. When they surface, they lay tangled in bed, sweaty and content to be in the same place. Henry turns on Bake Off at a low volume, just for background noise. He pets Alex’s hair and tells him about the last two weeks without him. How all the days blended together and he didn’t even realize how long it had been until Alex showed up. Alex asks Henry if he’s been taking his medication and Henry admits he isn’t sure, since he lost track of time. 

Henry props himself up against the headboard, and Alex curls up, warm against his chest. Henry strokes Alex’s hair, and Alex pushes into his hand like a cat. 

“So, last week, or two weeks ago, I guess... Gran called me into her office to chat.” 

“‘Bout what?” Alex murmurs, half asleep again. 

When Henry doesn’t answer right away, Alex sits up a little, dislodging Henry’s hand in the process. “About what, Henry?” 

Henry doesn’t quite meet Alex’s eyes. “She wanted to tell me that if I should engage in any ‘deviant desires’ that would reflect poorly on the Crown, well, that there were appropriate channels to maintain appearances,” he clears his throat, “if necessary.”

“What the fuck?” Alex demands, completely awake now. 

Henry finally meets Alex’s gaze, and Alex doesn’t like the uncertainty he sees there. “Are you--”

Henry tilts his head, waiting for Alex to finish his question. He feels a stab of panic when Alex suddenly looks miserable. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” Alex asks, in a tiny voice Henry has never heard from him before. 

“Oh, Christ no!” Henry assures him, pulling Alex in for a hard kiss. “No, I, of course not! What on earth would make you think--”

Alex looks at him like he’s an idiot. “You ghosted me for weeks, and you just said your grandmother, who is the fucking Queen of England, doesn’t approve of us.” He crosses his arms, still looking miserable. “Of me.” 

Henry wraps his arms around Alex, holding his naked body tightly to his bare chest. “First of all, she doesn’t _know_ about you. She disapproves of me.” He drops a kiss onto Alex’s head. “Which is nothing new, love.” 

Alex tilts his head up to press a kiss to the underside of Henry’s jaw, then nuzzles the same spot with his head. “You’re very cat-like today, you know.” Henry laughs.

Alex peers up at him with a sidelong glance. “And you’re deflecting.”

“Sorry.” 

Alex lays his head back down on Henry’s chest. “What did she mean, ‘appropriate channels’?” He draws figure-eights on Henry’s arm with one finger. “Could she...do something to you?” 

Henry huffs out a sigh. “We had a great aunt who was dating a married military officer, one of her bodyguards. Gran’s dad was king then and he had the poor man shipped off to, well, not Timbuktu, somewhere further and more remote than that.” 

Alex shrugs. “You’re not in the military.” 

“No, thank goodness. I suppose she could force me to enlist, but I don’t think she would. Even if she did, we’d still have our phones and email and ...it’s not like it was then.” Alex murmurs, agreeing. “And anyway, I have...other options.” 

Alex sits up again. “What options?” 

Henry looks hesitant, plays with the signet ring on his pinky. “I could, if I wanted to...I could just abdicate.” 

“You can’t do that.” 

Henry looks away. “I don’t particularly want to, but I would if things became...unbearable." He looks back at Alex. "My mum and sister would always support me no matter what, and, well, Philip and Gran _won’t_ , no matter what, so really the only thing that would change is that I wouldn’t be a prince anymore.” 

Alex is quiet for a long time, nestles back against his chest and plays with Henry’s fingers. “You can’t do that for me,” he finally whispers. 

“I’d be doing it for me, love, but for us too. I ...if I can’t be who I am, then what’s the point of a title? I can’t really represent my country if it’s all a lie.” 

Alex doesn’t move. Henry can practically hear him thinking. “I don’t want you to have to make that choice.” 

Henry tightens his embrace. “I don’t either, darling, but you aren’t the one forcing me to consider it.” 

They sit silently for a while, and Alex watches curiously as Henry takes off his signet ring. He’s not silent, though, as Henry slides it onto Alex’s ring finger. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, grinning at what must be a weird joke. 

Henry gently touches Alex’s chin with one finger, turns his head just enough to look him in the eye. “I want you to have it.” 

Alex twists around, starts to pull the ring off. “No, you can’t, I can’t keep this. It’s...” 

“Alex,” he interrupts. “If this represents my family bloodline, my legacy in the world, well...I want you to be part of that. I don’t know exactly how, yet, but...” He folds Alex’s fingers down into his palm, holds them there gently. “I want you to keep it,” he says slowly, insistently. 

Alex looks into his eyes, sees the sincerity there. He turns his body back around, leans back into Henry again. He twists the ring around. “It’s too big,” he says, showing Henry. "And it's not like I can wear it..." 

He thinks for a minute, then pulls the chain out from under his shirt. He slides the ring on, where it lands with a solid clink next to the key to his home in Austin. 

Henry nods approvingly, kisses Alex’s temple. 

“I love you so much,” Alex says. He rubs his thumb over the faint tan line on Henry’s pinky, kisses his now bare hand. 

Henry buries his face in Alex’s curls, inhales deeply. “And I adore you.”

*******************

Things get back to normal, relatively, for the two of them. Henry offers to participate in an event in Sweden the following month, only because Alex will be there. They attend a conference, shake hands and smile politely, and sit through a painfully long dinner. Henry excuses himself afterward, skipping after-dinner drinks, and Alex hears the assorted VIPs murmuring things like, “Poor boy” and “Such a shame.” 

Alex stays for thirty minutes on the dot before he slips out to the hallway and pulls out his phone. He has one text: 

**_1144_ **

His security people station themselves on either end of the hallway and at the central elevator. When the door opens, he grabs a handful of Henry’s open dress shirt and pushes him backward into the room.

It feels like a victory for both of them. 


	7. In acceptance

Over the next few months there are other work events, and a couple of visits to the Palace. Each time, Alex feels like Henry is a little better, a little lighter. Different, but not in a bad way. He’s been so enveloped in grief since they got together that Alex was almost used to it, the sadness and anxiety and the awful waiting that colored everything they did. Now, hard as he tries, Alex can't remember the last panic attack Henry had. 

“I think you’re in acceptance,” Alex says one night, cocooned in expensive, cream-colored sheets. 

“I’m in... what?” 

Alex has a moment to regret saying that out loud. He turns to face Henry and props himself up on his elbows, face flushed with embarrassment. “I found this stuff on the internet, by this woman named Elizabeth... something... Ross, and she has this theory that people who lose someone go through these stages of grief. And one of them is acceptance. That’s when you accept what happened, well, obviously,” he rolls his eyes at himself, knows he’s blathering but can’t stop. “And it’s a good thing, really, because it means you’re, well, not ready to move on or forget about them or anything, but like you aren’t just…” Alex looks away, positive he’s saying all the wrong things. “Like you aren’t just sad all the time.” 

Henry just stares at him, puzzled. “Was that something you learned about in one of your classes at Georgetown?”

Alex looks at Henry, just as confused. “Classes?” He strokes Henry’s face. “This wasn’t for a class. I read about this for, um, so I could help you. Or at least try to understand what you’re going through, a little, and _maybe_ help you. And I probably can’t, but--” 

Henry’s mouth is suddenly on his, warm and strong, and Alex forgets what he was going to say. 

“You _researched_ this? For me?” 

Alex bites his lip, nods uncertainly. “Was that okay?” 

Henry laughs, and somewhere in the back of his mind Alex registers it as a real laugh, not a hopeless one. 

He holds Alex’s wrists delicately, pulls him in close, and wraps his arms around him. He nuzzles Alex’s face with his nose. “There are no words for how 'okay' that is, darling.” 

*********************

About a month later, Henry plans a trip to DC. There’s an official reason for him to be there, but it doesn’t require a three-day stay. He stays in a hotel, because staying in the White House would be obvious and…

And it just seems _ludicrous_ , suddenly, all the lies they tell. 

They're sitting on the sofa in Henry's suite, room service trays on the coffee table, when he looks at Alex and says, “I want to come out.” 

Alex looks over at Henry, an eggroll halfway to his mouth. “For real?” 

Henry nods. “Mum's okay with it and said she'll do anything she can to help me with Gran." He sighs. "And I just want to tell the truth. If you aren’t comfortable with that, I won’t involve you, but I’m not going to lie anymore. It’s exhausting, and silly, and I’m tired of it.” 

Alex puts the eggroll back on a platter. “No, I…” He wipes the grease from his hand with a thick cloth napkin, then reaches for Henry’s hand. “No, it’s fine. I...I’m ready if you are.” 

Henry lifts Alex’s hand and kisses it. “Do you need to talk to your mother?” 

Alex smiles at him, a little sheepish. “I already did.” He shrugs. “When the funeral pictures came out, I told her I wanted to come out, but I didn't think you were there yet. And she said,” he blushes, “she said if I felt forever about you, then she’d support me--us--all the way.” 

Henry shakes his head, recalculates the last few months in his head. “Then why did you and Bea--”

“I said mom was okay with it, I didn’t say the PR people were,” he grins. “Plus, you were dealing with a lot and even if you’d told me you were ready, I wasn’t sure if...” Alex self-consciously starts picking at his jeans. “I don’t know, I just didn’t think you should be making big decisions when you were grieving, because I read this thing that said stress affects your ability to make decisions... so…the date with Bea bought you some time.” 

It hits Henry, suddenly, and everything is so completely clear in his head. Alex is right, the months after the funeral are a haze, and he _wasn’t_ capable of making important decisions then. But he didn’t need to, because Alex was looking out for him. Doing _research_ , apparently, in order to look out for him. 

Henry can’t pinpoint when it happened, exactly, but the fog of grief that once settled over him has...lifted a little. It hasn’t disappeared, but it has lifted. It still gets to him, some days, the clawing heartache, and he still misses his dad. He will _always_ miss his dad. But it’s not the all-consuming sharp pain it was a year ago. 

When Henry thinks back over the last year, Alex is always _there_ somehow. On the phone, in a text or an email, in person….

Alex softened the edges of his grief. Gave him space when he needed it and pushed past his walls when Henry really needed him close. He was a buffer for Henry, protected his heart when he was too tired and sad to do it himself. Absorbed Henry’s anger at the unfairness of the world, patiently put up with him when he was a prick, listened to him talk endlessly about the good memories, the silly childhood stories...and about the fear of living the rest of his life without a father. 

Alex _saved_ him. He doesn’t think that’s an exaggeration. 

While his grandmother, rather than support him, has only chastised and shamed him. She’s never once asked him or Bea how they feel, how they’re managing without their dad in their lives. 

And which of them has Henry worked so hard to please? Which of them has he allowed to make decisions about his life? 

And Henry decides he’s just _done_. He won’t lie anymore. He knows his grandmother might kill him, and will almost definitely force him to abdicate. If he doesn’t, she’ll make his life a living hell. 

He no longer cares. He’s been to hell and back. And he would go again, if he had Alex at his side. 

He realizes he’s been quiet, leaving Alex to sit and stare at him uncertainly. Henry reaches for Alex’s hands, pulls him close. ““I am so completely, utterly in love with you.” He runs his hands up and down Alex’s back. “Thank you so much for taking care of me.” 

He and Alex arrange a meeting with Ellen and Shaan and Zahra. Catherine joins them on videoconference. They all agree to the basics, agree to let Henry do the rest however he wants. It’s his life, after all. Throughout the two-hour meeting, Alex holds his hand, openly, on the table, for everyone in the room to see. 

Henry shakes his head. He can’t believe it’s really that easy. 

After the meeting, Ellen asks to talk to Henry privately. He comes out of her office and Alex jumps up, taking his hand. 

“What did she say?” 

“She said…” Henry shakes his head, wipes tears away. ”She was very kind, Alex. She made me feel very welcome here, with you, in her home.” 

Alex reaches up to brush his fingers over Henry’s cheekbones. “Then why are you crying, babe?” he whispers. 

“They’re happy tears, Alex.” He leans down for a kiss. “I’d forgotten what those felt like.” 


	8. Sorry, David

Catherine arranges an interview with a Royal-friendly reporter, Camille Armstrong-Smythe, promising her the scoop of a lifetime as long as she keeps her mouth shut until it airs. Minimal crew, just her producer and cameraman. They schedule it quickly, while the Queen is visiting Paris for a few days. 

The morning of the interview, Henry takes Alex with him to visit his father’s grave. The PPOs take up posts on the perimeter to make sure they won't be bothered. Henry sits on the ground for a while, tells his father what he’s about to do, and why he needs to do it. Alex just holds his hand and lets him talk. 

When he’s done, they both stand up, but Alex hangs back a bit. “Um, could I talk to him?” He looks at his watch. “Just for a minute?” 

Henry nods, a sweet smile on his face. “Of course.” 

Alex waits, then realizes he wasn’t clear. He makes a shooing gesture with his fingers. “Alone.” 

“Ah.” Henry nods once, then walks away and leans against a low stone wall. He can see Alex looking down, shifting from one foot to the other, but he can’t hear him. Alex starts to walk away once but turns back. A moment later, he smiles over at Henry, then looks back toward the grave. 

Finally, Alex walks over to Henry and stands in front of him. He reaches up to cup Henry’s cheek and smiles that brilliant, blinding smile Henry loves. There are tears on his face. “Henry, you are amazing and strong and brave and I love you more than I could ever, ever tell you.” He smiles at Henry’s stunned expression, pats his face, and takes his hand. “Now, let’s go, baby. You have an interview to do.” 

*******************************

Camille sits down in the drawing room at Buckingham across from Henry, both of them perched on scratchy, formal brocade chairs. Her producer is talking to Henry while the makeup people do last minute touch-ups on both of them. The producer reminds Henry he has full veto power, up until air time, over the process. If, at any time, he feels uncomfortable or changes his mind, the interview will end. Shaan nods his approval, moving back into Henry’s line of sight. “Your Highness...are you absolutely sure about this?” Shaan asks. 

Henry nods, and pulls out his phone to turn off the sound. He sees the picture of David he’s using for his lock screen. It’s such a small, silly thing, but he realizes that if they were out, _Alex_ would be his lock screen. And suddenly all the things he has no control over, all the things he would do if he was just a normal bloke, out in the world, hit him at once. 

And he _laughs_. 

He hands his phone to Shaan, then looks over at Camille. 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” 

************************

Once the interview is over, Henry stands up and allows the producer to remove his microphone. 

Camille reaches over to shake his hand. “Thank you, Sir. I wish you and Alex the best of luck.” 

“Thank you, Camille. You made that relatively painless.” 

“Well, it hasn’t aired yet,” she reminds him honestly. 

Shaan hands Henry his phone and he turns the sound back on. David is there, in all his goofy, ridiculous glory. 

And it would be fine….really, it would. If he told Alex this was all they could have, if he never acknowledged Alex publicly, Alex would probably understand. Would probably go along... 

It _could_ be fine. 

But fine isn’t good enough for Henry. Not anymore. 

He flips through his photos and zooms in on one of Alex, one hand in his hair, grinning that infernal, demonic grin at the camera. Without a moment of hesitation, Henry makes it his lock screen. “Sorry, David,” he whispers to himself. 

Henry walks from Buckingham back to Kensington, figuring it will be the last time for a while that he’ll be able to go out without being mobbed. He always draws some attention, but nothing like he’ll get once the interview airs. The sun is out, unusual for London, and he slows down as he walks through the gardens. In a few hours, everyone in his country, everyone in the world, will see him as a completely different person. He is, surprisingly, not upset about that. Because they’ll be seeing him as the person he really is. Honest. Real. 

He passes the gardeners and they immediately stop what they’re doing and bow. Henry smiles kindly. “Matthew, Edgar, could I ask a favor?” 

He gets to his rooms and can hear David whimpering for him at the door. When he opens the door, David runs in circles around his legs. “Oh hello, hello! I missed you too!” 

“Hey babe,” Alex jumps up from his spot at Henry’s desk where he’s set up his laptop, shoves his glasses on top of his head. 

Henry hands him the two yellow roses he brought from the garden. “Yellow Rose of Texas, that’s... a thing, isn’t it?” 

Alex takes them, his eyes bright. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He kisses Henry, just a quick, comforting peck. “And yes, it’s a thing. Maybe one of these days I’ll make you sing it with me at a karaoke bar.” 

Alex sets the flowers down carefully on the desk and wraps his arms around Henry’s waist. “How’d it go?” 

Henry plants a long, loving kiss on Alex’s forehead. He pulls back a bit and stares into Alex’s eyes. “I think…” He kisses Alex, softly, confidently, this time on the lips. “I think everything is going to be just fine.” 


	9. He makes me happy

Later that night, they curl up in bed together to watch the interview. Their group chat is blowing up, mostly combinations of OMFG and emojis. Pez has already sent every happy crying GIF in existence, and the interview hasn't even started. Social media is full of guesses about what Henry is going to say, so apparently the reporter kept her promise to stay quiet. Henry has four missed calls from the Queen's staff and three from Philip, all of which he shows Alex with a pleased smirk. David props his chin on Alex’s leg, in the best spot for Alex to scratch his head. He whimpers every time Alex stops, even for a second, to cup Henry’s face and kiss him. “I saw him first,” Henry informs his dog. 

On the tv screen, the reporter is offering condolences to Henry on the death of his father, and they talk about Arthur’s legacy for a few minutes. Then she’s asking another question, and Alex feels Henry’s hand tighten around his own. 

“It seems there’s always a story in the tabloids or on television about the Royal Family,” she’s saying. 

Henry nods. 

“Do you feel your public knows too much about you?” 

Alex watches as Henry on the screen takes a deep breath and sticks his chin out. 

“On the contrary, I don’t feel they really know me at all.” They cut back to the reporter’s face, who looks slightly surprised. Henry wants to laugh, because this entire interview was loosely scripted beforehand. 

“Why is that, Sir?” 

“Because I haven’t been honest with them.” Henry looks briefly off screen, so quickly most people would’ve missed it. “I’m gay, and I’ve been keeping that a secret, but I’m not willing to do that any longer.” 

Henry's phone buzzes again, another call from his grandmother's private secretary. Alex watches proudly as Henry picks up his phone and turns it off. 

“What made you choose to go public with that information now?” 

“Because I have a boyfriend, and I’ve had to lie about him, and deny our relationship, and I...it hurts both of us, to lie about it.” Henry calmly folds his hands together on his lap. “So we discussed it and decided it was time to stop hiding.” 

“Are you willing to tell us more about your boyfriend?” 

Henry smiles, on screen and off. Alex holds his hand a little tighter. 

“His name is Alex Claremont-Diaz, and he’s the son of the President of the United States.” 

“You smiled when you said his name,” Camille notes.

“He makes me happy,” Henry answers honestly. 

“And how did you two meet?” 

Henry laughs. “I’m sure everyone remembers the cake incident at my brother’s wedding. Alex and I actually met years before, briefly, at the Rio Olympics, and had a bit of a ...misunderstanding, so we hadn’t interacted much since then. The wedding incident sparked a PR stunt, in which we were to pretend to be friends.” Henry blushes a little on screen, and Alex can’t help but lean over in the bed and kiss his cheek. 

“And in the process of pretending to be friends, we accidentally fell in love.” 

The shot cuts to the reporter, smiling kindly. 

“We’ve been in a relationship for about a year and a half now. He was there for me when my father died." Henry shakes his head. "I have no idea how I would’ve made it through the funeral, or through this past year, without his support. There isn’t time in the world for me to be able to repay him for that.” Henry’s face turns serious and there are tears in his eyes. “But we had to lie about why he was at the funeral, and that caused pain for me, for others in my family, and for Alex, and I truly regret any part I had in that.” 

"So Alex is..."

"Alex is going to tell his own story, in an interview with Anderson Cooper next week. I wouldn't dream of doing that for him." 

"And Alex and your sister, Princess Beatrice--"

"Are very good friends," Henry finishes for her. "Nothing more." 

The reporter asks Henry about whether the rest of his family accepts his identity, and his relationship, knowing he wasn’t going to answer directly. “The people who are important to me, accept me for who I am,” Henry tells her, just like they discussed beforehand. 

“Truth,” Alex says admiringly. 

She goes on to ask whether Henry plans to openly support LGBTQ causes now, and he enthusiastically says that he hopes he can be involved, “If they’ll have me.” 

Alex is starting to tune out, running a hand up and down Henry’s leg beneath the sheets, when the reporter asks, 

“And you’re also planning to become more involved with international gay rights organizations?” 

“Yes, my good friend Percy Okonjo runs a foundation that does many wonderful things. One of his projects involves establishing shelters for LGBTQ youth in England and abroad. He’s asked me to take charge of the shelter in New York and I very much look forward to that.” 

The reporter smiles coyly at him. “It seems that working with a charity in the US would allow you to be closer to your boyfriend.” 

Alex leans his head on Henry's shoulder. He'd had the same thought when Henry first told him about Pez's offer, hoped maybe they could see each other a little more often. 

On screen, Henry laughs. 

“Last I checked the White House is still in Washington, DC, and I don’t think there are plans to move it any time soon. But I have purchased a home in New York, so I can oversee some of the setup. I intend to spend more time there, at least in the immediate future.” 

In bed, Alex sits up and slowly turns his head to stare at Henry. “I’m sorry, you did what?” 

Henry looks at Alex, suddenly a little uncertain, a contrast to the confident man on screen. ”I bought a brownstone. In Brooklyn,” he takes a quick breath and continues, “because if I’m going to be there to supervise the--” 

He’s cut off when Alex dives on top of him and kisses him until he needs to come up for air. When Alex pulls back, he has a look of bewilderment and tears in his eyes. Henry reaches up to wipe them away. “Love, what is it?” 

Alex jumps up and brings his laptop over to the bed. He scrolls and clicks and turns the screen toward Henry. 

Henry starts reading aloud, “Your application has been…” he finishes silently, turns to Alex with his eyes wide. “Are you serious?” 

Alex nods. “I applied to Georgetown Law too, it was my first choice until you told me….” His face falls a bit, when Henry just keeps staring at him. “But mom has friends at NYU and I think--” 

This time, Henry tackles Alex onto the bed, only giving him a second to fling his laptop out of the way. He’s kissing Alex like he’s precious, like he’s loved…

Like it’s forever. 

Like it always has been. 

When Henry finally pulls back a little, they just stare at each other, both imagining a life where they can live in the same house, sleep in the same bed every night, just... _be_. 

Alex reaches up and strokes Henry’s face. Henry is leaning down for another kiss when Alex suddenly shoves a palm firmly into his chest, pressing him up and away. ”Wait, wait, wait.” 

Henry growls, but does as he says, propping himself up on his forearms. 

“You said accidentally,” Alex says, closing his eyes and moaning when Henry grinds down on him. 

“What?” Henry asks, surfacing from his lust-induced haze.

“In the interview, you said ‘accidentally’.” 

“Oh, erm, yes,” Henry says. 

Alex flips them over and straddles Henry’s waist. “You’re wrong, Wales.” 

Henry still hasn’t caught up with the conversation. “What?” 

Alex thinks back over the last year. He leans down and touches his mouth to Henry’s. “It’s not an accident.” He kisses one corner of Henry’s mouth, then the other. “ _We’re_ not an accident, sweetheart.” He kisses him long and slow, lifts his head and smiles. 

“I love you on purpose.” 

Henry smiles, the relaxed, beautiful smile that only Alex knows by heart. 

He can’t wait til the rest of the world finally gets to see it too. 


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted Chapter 9 and 10 at the same time. If you did what I always do, and just click on the latest chapter, you're gonna want to go back and read Chapter 9 first :-) 
> 
> Before you finish this story, I just want to thank everyone who was brave enough to push past the warning tags and read this anyway!! I know it's emotionally A LOT. This one took a while to write and then I waited to post it until I was done posting my other multi-chapter AU, so it's been really fun to finally share it and get reactions!!

_“Hello, um, Sir. I’m Alex...well, you know me. We met at the wedding. I’m sure you remember me...you know, with the cake. Sorry about that. Anyway, I used to think your son was an asshole. Henry, not Philip. Philip might be an asshole, no offense. But, see, Henry, he just seemed like an asshole when I first met him, because he was locked up so tight...he was so scared of losing you. And I’m really glad I figured that out in time, because he is the best person I have ever known. I love him. I think you know that. Even if you didn’t hear him when he told you, well, I think you know now.”_

_“He’s just...he’s really strong. And amazing. And brave. And I don’t know if he believes that. But I’m gonna make it my job for the rest of our lives to make sure he does….. And I hope you’re okay with that. He says you are, but...well, I hope he’s right. Because one of these days I’m gonna marry him and I know it matters to him that you’re okay with that, with us.” Alex closes his eyes,_ _drops_ _his voice to a whisper. "I promise I'll take care of him."_

_He clears his throat. “We gotta go. He’s going on television to come out of the closet. Has he always been extra like that? He has, right? H_ _e’s kind of a drama queen, but,_ _I mean, he is your son._ _And honestly, that dramatic side, that’s part of what I love about him.”_

_Alex starts to walk away, but pivots back. “And hey, if you’re not okay with us, just please don’t do any scary, angry, ghost revenge stuff, okay? Like in a horror movie. Or Hamlet.” He turns briefly, grins at his beautiful poet boyfriend, leaning on the wall like a fucking oil painting come to life. “Yeah,” he sighs, “Henry would definitely pick Hamlet."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story came from me trying to come up with a new idea and playing "what if..." I came up with "what if Arthur doesn't die until after they meet and they have to also navigate THAT early in their relationship?" I kept wondering if I was writing Henry out-of-character but then I realized he IS a different person in this story. He's older and has more support when his dad dies. I also didn't want to completely rewrite the book, I just wanted to focus on Henry's grieving process. The title being a line from Hamlet was just a gift --I think I googled 'poetic lines about grief' or something brilliant like that!

**Author's Note:**

> I had the initial idea for this a long time ago but couldn't figure out where to go from there. I guess I figured it out, because this story is completely written! Thanks to Gretchen and Evie for taking breaks from their own amazing stories to give excellent beta and encouragement!!
> 
> The title is a line from Hamlet, after Hamlet's father has died and his mother is telling him to get over it already: 
> 
> Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off,  
> And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.  
> Do not forever with thy vailèd lids  
> Seek for thy noble father in the dust.  
> Thou know’st ’tis common. All that lives must die,  
> Passing through nature to eternity.


End file.
